V For Voodoo
by Lilwazzabug
Summary: Sam & Dean check into some unexplainable killings and get into a tussle with the murderer that they won't soon forget.
1. Chapter 1

"Clarissa?!" The man gasped as he looked up at the woman he had divorced just a few months ago. A stabbing pain shot through his chest again, causing him to scream and clench his teeth. He clawed at his chest, as if to remove the knife that he could have sworn was being buried into it, but his hands caught on nothing; he was merely scratching at his bare skin. The woman standing over the writhing man twisted a long pin into the chest of a pale, featureless doll clutched in her hand.

The man screamed out in pain again. "Clarissa, please!"

The woman twisted the pin again and violently pulled it out of the doll. The man gasped and rolled onto his side, breathing heavily from the intense pain that had pulsed through his body a few moments earlier. He grasped at his chest, it still had a dull ache in it, and squeezed his eyes closed. He opened them again to look upon his much younger, newly married wife's lifeless eyes staring back at him. He recalled that she had died just a few minutes earlier, writhing in pain and wimpering on the ground as she grasped her head desperately in her shaking hands, trying to shield it from the invisiable force that was piercing through it. Two legs walked in front of the man's vision and the woman bent down, her eyes flashing with a blank, bitter hatred and her jaw set in a disturbing smirk. The man cringed as his ex-wife grabbed his face forcefully with her hand.

"You see what happens when you cheat on your wife of 23 years, darling?" The man shook his head as tears streamed down his face.

"I'm sorry." He choked out. The woman squeezed her hand tighter around her ex-husbands face, the corners of her mouth twitching and turning up at the corners bitterly.

"I'll bet you wish that that actually meant something to me." She shoved the man's face back out of her grasp, his head thumped back on the hardwood. The woman stood up and jammed the needle back into the ragged doll she still gripped in her hand. The man on the floor began kicking and crying out in pain again. His pleas merely bounced off the eardrums of the woman standing above him as she twisted the pin maliciously into the doll's chest. After a few minutes, the man finally fell silent, his body completely still. The woman smiled down at the lifeless man, his eyes still staring wide at her.

"Happy anniversary, you bastard." She spat between clenched teeth. And she turned and walked away, leaving the two bodies on the floor for someone else to deal with.

Sam rubbed his tired eyes and squinted back at the computer screen, typing in another search trying to find any possible material for he and his brother's next hunt. It was aslmot 7 in the morning, so naturally Dean was fast asleep. He was sprawled out on his bed, blankets and sheets were thrown half off him and the side of his face was buried in his pillow. It had been nearly 3 weeks since the gates of hell had been opened and hundreds of demons had been released to the unsuspecting world. Sam had searched and searched but could find no sign of the demons anywhere. He had even called Bobby who only confirmed that no sightings, possessions or signs had cropped up yet. Sam looked over the top of the computer at his brother as he mumbled in his sleep and shifted a little on the mattress. Sam let out a heavy sigh. He couldn't help but notice that Dean seemed to have lost a bit of his natural vitality; Sam had a good idea as to why that was. With all that had gone down a few weeks earlier, he really didn't blame Dean for being a little off. Sam reached behind him and gently ran his fingers over the scar that ran over nearly a foot of his back. It was rough and still ached a little, not having time to fully heal yet. Sam shook his head sadly, his jaw clenched as the feeling of oncoming tears tingled in his nose. He would have done _anything _to have stopped Dean from doing what he did, but at the time there was nothing he could have done. Sam wouldn't allow himself to be mad at his brother for selling his own soul to bring him back from the dead. Dean had a little over 11 months to live and Sam sure as hell wasn't gonna spend that precious time being mad at his brother for doing what he considered "His job". _"That's what he has always called it..." _Thought Sam, smiling sadly to himself. _"...His job." That's my job right? Watch after my pain in the ass little brother. _Those words had some how reached Sam through the darkness. He remembered little from the night that life had left his body, but Sam did remember the comforting feeling of Dean holding him, supporting him, and he remembered those words he had spoken to him. Before every last one of his senses had failed him, Sam had heard Dean. Something in Sam's mind stirred as he recalled those words. He smiled weakly to himself as his eyes focused on something beyond the glow of the computer screen and his mind wandered to times of the past.

November 1993

_"Damnit Sam! I told you to stay right where you were!" Dean pulled Sam into the small hotel room. Other than Dean's coat drawn about his shoulders, Sam was dripping wet and shivering uncontroably against the bitter November weather of North Dakota. _

_"I was gone for like 3 minutes!" _

_Sam and Dean had been right outside the hotel room. Sam had seen a cat out the window and immediately ran out to play with it. Dean stood, hands stuck in his coat-pockets, waiting for Sam to have his fill of petting and cuddling the furry creature when he heard the phone ring in their hotel room. Dean waited; a second ring did not follow. A minute later, the phone rang again. This time Dean immediately went to answer it, knowing who it would be._

_"Stay here, I'll be right back." He said as he walked into the room. _

_Sam merely nodded and giggled as the cat swished its tail over his nose. A door down the way slammed and scared the feline, causing it to jump from Sam's arms and run away. Sam jumped up and chased the animal across the parking lot. The cat was just a few steps ahead of Sam as it ran into the pool area. Sam continued on, completely focused on capturing the cat again. As Sam ran along the pool his feet caugh a patch of ice, causing him to slide and fall head first onto the plastic material that covered the hotel pool in the winter months. Sam lay for a moment, surprised by his fall, the water underneath the pool-cover bobbing him up and down slightly. He recovered after a moment and began to stand up. Right as Sam managed to straighten up and take one step, the material on the side of the pool closest to him snapped away from the wall, sending Sam straight down into the ice cold water. "Whoa-" was all Sam could get out before he became submerged. The coldness of the water knocked the breath out of Sam and he fought frantically to breach the surface. He came up with a gasp and started to swim to the side, his whole body shaking as he did so. Sam finally reached the edge and began to pull himself out of the water. Something snagged on his leg and Sam's arms, stiff and weak from the cold, gave way beneath him due to the extra weight and he again fell back below the icy surface. Sam gasped and coughed to the surface again. He looked down to see what had disabled him from leaving the pool and saw that the pool-cover was wrapped and twisted tightly around his leg. Sam pulled at is desperately, becoming more panicked by the second as he began to go numb from the cold. _

_"Dea-an!" He cried out, choking on a bit of water. _

_The stifled call was enough; Dean had gotten off the phone and was desperately searching for Sam in the parking lot. Dean ran towards his brother's call and round him, neck deep, in the pool. _

_"Sam!" He rushed to the side of the pool and fell to his knees, reaching out to Sam. "Give me your hand!" _

_Sam put out his shaky hand and caught his brother's. Dean's fingers wrapped around his little brother's ice cold grip. Even at the young age of 14, Dean was strong as most men, and he easily pulled Sam up and onto the side of the pool._

_"It's g-got m-me." Sam's teeth chattered as he indicated the pool-cover wrapped around his leg. Dean put one arm around Sam's chest and reached out his other hand to untwist the plastic that was holding his little brother back from freedom. Dean untangled the plastic finally and threw it aside agriliy, as if this whole incident was its fault. Dean stood up, pulling Sam to his feet with him and turning him to face himself._

_"What were you thinking, huh?!" He ripped his own jacket off his shoulders and pulled it tightly around Sam. The jacket drowned Sam, making him look all that smaller._

_"I'm s-sorry." Sam said, his puppy dog eyes staring up at his big brother. Dean shook his head and put his arm tightly around Sam's shoulders, leading him quickly back to the hotel room. Sam's legs gave out from under him a little as they came upon their room._

_"Whoa, I gotcha." Dean voice had lost all its harshness that it had had before as he caught Sam and helped him back to his feet. Dean opened the door and lead Sam inside._

_"Damnit Sam! I told you to stay right where you were!" Dean's voice was stern again, just like that, as he let Sam stand shakily on his own while he turned and locked all the bolts on the door._

_"I was gone for like 3 minutes!" Dean locked the dead-bolt and turned back to Sam. He took his shoulders and sat him down on the bed, begining to remove his soaking wet shoes._

_"D-dean, I'm s-sorry." Warm tears streamed down Sam's cold face; he could tell Dean was truly upset. Dean yanked off Sam's shoes and moved to pulling his shirt over his head, ignoring Sam's apology. Sam hung his head as Dean removed the rest of his soaked clothes. Dean hurried over to his own bag and pulled out one of his shirts._

_"Put your arms up." He said quietly as he put the shirt over Sam's dark, wet hair. The shirt went down to nearly Sam's knees, but it was dry and it worked out fine. Dean snatched the blanket off the unmade bed opposite to the one Sam was sitting on. He kneeled in front of Sam, wrapping the blanket tightly around his little brother's shaking shoulders. Dean looked up into Sam's face, rubbing his shoulders to increase circulation. Tears were still running down his small face._

_"Aw, come on, Sammy." Dean put his arms around Sam and pulled him, blankets and all, on the floor next to himself. He pulled Sam close to himself, trying to stop him from shivering, trying to keep him warm...safe. Sam's head rested on his brother's shoulder._

_"Dean, I'm s-sorr-."_

_"It's alright, Sammy. I gotcha." Dean's voice was low and soft. Both brothers sat, looking straight ahead of them at the weak light filtering through the curtains._

_"But, you're really mad." Sam felt Dean shake his head._

_"I'm not mad at you, Sammy." _

_Sam looked up at him. "Yes you are, I can tell. You're mad." _

_Dean squeezed his shoulder a little; Sam's shivering has lessened some-what. "I'm not mad, it's just..." Dean stopped and sighed._

_"Just what?" Sam's soft, blue/green eyes looked up at him._

_Dean smiled; he was amazed how Sam's small, curious voice always had the power to make all his built up walls crumble down into dust._

_"I was scared..." Dean continued after a few moments of silence. "...When I came back oustide, you weren't there. I let you out of my sight, I screwed up."_

_Sam's brow furrowed and he let his head fall back against Dean's shoulder, his eye still fixed up at him. "What do ya mean?"_

_Dean chuckled a little, he never was one for chick-flick moments...oh what the hell._

_"Uh..." He cleared his throat. "...Well, the night M-mom died, Dad handed you to me. And I made a promise, to you and myself, that I'd always protect you..." Dean glanced down at Sam then focused his eyes straight ahead again. "...Whatever the cost, I'd protect you and look out for you." Sam blinked up at Dean, looking at him like he was God himself._

_"Oh..." He said quietly, looking ahead of him again. _

_Dean sighed and nodded. "Yeah. So that's my job; watch after my pain in the ass little brother."_

_Sam giggled after a moment. "You said...ass." He whispered the last word._

_Dean laughed and gave Sam's shoulders another squeeze. "Yeah, get used to it."_

Sam became aware of fingers waving in front of his face.

"Sam?" He heard Dean's voice. Sam jumped back a little in his chair. Dean stood in front of him, his sleep-tossled hair standing at particularly humorous angles and his face drawn into a look of confusion and mild worry.

"You ok, man?" asked Dean, looking Sam over, a little concerned.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

"Uh..." Dean motioned to his face.

Sam looked at his brother, a bit puzzled, then became aware of the wetness and slightly stiff feeling on his cheeks. His hands flew to his face, wiping away the tears.

"Oh, yeah it's just...the computer. I've been up awhile, must've strained my eyes." Sam rubbed his eyes for emphasis.

Dean nodded slowly. "Oh...well, ya find anything?"

Sam exed out of a failed search titled "Crossroad+Demon+Deal Breakers." "No, nothing." Sam was sure his voice probably sounded more disappointed than neccessary at not being able to find a hunt.

Dean let out a breath. "Alright, why don't you go get us some much needed coffee and I'll do some digging for awhile."

Sam knew Dean was desperate for a hunt, he needed the distraction. Hell, they _both_ needed it. He nodded. "Okay." And got up out of the chair.

Dean dropped down in his place and centered the computer more in front of him, typing in a search for the local newspaper website. Sam opened the door, looking at his brother again as he stared intently at the computer screen. Dean hadn't changed a bit since the age of 14. Really, he hadn't changed a bit since Sam could remember. Realizing he was lingering in the open doorway, Sam sighed and walked out to the Impala.

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**Ok, so sorry if that seemed rushed (and for any errors I might have made) I just REALLY wanted to get the first part on here tonight. Please tell me what you honestly thing, constructive criticism is fine by me. Thanks for reading, there is more to come!!!**

**Lil**


	2. Chapter 2

_IMPORTANT!!!!(Read Before Continuing) Those murders that happened first thing in Chapter 1 took place 3 years ago. I'm sorry, I forgot to write that in. Sorry it took me awhile to UD and this chapter is kinda short, but I wanted to give ya'll something. Hope ya'll enjoy!!_

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Dean found and clicked on the link to the local newspaper's website a few moments after Sam left for coffee. _"Damnit, he's torturing himself again." _Dean thought as he looked over the main articles on the site. Dean knew exactly what was bothering Sam, because it was bothering him as well. Not a day had gone by in the last few weeks where Dean didn't think of the deal he made. He admited he was worried, in fact he was downright scared out of his mind. Dean didn't regret for a split second what he would have to face in a little over 11 months from now, because Sam was brought back to him in exchange.

No, Dean was worried about what would happen to Sam after he was no longer around to protect and watch after him; that thought tortured Dean and was omnipresent in his mind. _"How certain are you that what you brought back is 100, pure Sam?" _That thought plagued Dean's already troubled mind as well, but he always dismissed it the exact same way. _"Go to hell, you son of a bitch. I wasted you, you won't be hurting Sammy anymore." _Dean _did _find slight comfort in the fact that he killed the YED and hopefully his "Plans for Sam and all the other children like him" along with it. Dean shook his head, mumbling to himself.

"I take it back; demons are just as crazy as people." He exed out of the site for the local paper, not having found any unexplained deaths or weird occurences. He typed in a general search for recent death announcements and sat back after hitting "Enter". Dean ran his hands over the back of his head and took a look around the hotel room. His eyes stopped on Sam's bed. The sheets and blankets were completely askew, obviously from constant tossing and turning throughout the night. Dean frowned at the bed and sighed. _"And he's not sleeping..."_

"...Great." He mumbled, finishing his thought aloud. Dean would be more than willing to help Sam search for a way to stop his impending doom, but he didn't want to press what the crossroad demon had warned him. _"If you try to welch or weasle your way out then the deal's off and Sam drops dead." _Dean ran a hand over his face. Once again he felt like the weight of the world had been placed on his increasingly tiring shoulders. Dean would often muse about why and _how_ he managed to put up with it all. Sometimes he felt like giving up altogether, he would feel the same way he felt the night he was left to stare at his brother's lifeless form. These feelings of hopelessness were no stranger to Dean, but he had a way to overcome them; a single thread reminding him of what needed to be done and how important it was to keep going. _"Sam..." _A single thought would bring Dean's cluttered mind into focus again. _"Sam needs you..." _Dean clenched his jaw as he recalled the overwhelming, unbareable despair he felt the night Sam was taken from him. Although Dean had grasped him tightly in his arms, Sam had still faded away right in front of him. _"...God knows you need him too...more than anything."_

His attention was pulled back into focus by a headline. "Another Bizarre Death: Cause Still Unknown." Dean leaned forward and clicked on the link.

"Joshua Haroldson was found dead last night on the side of Clearview Road, just outside of town. No markings what-so-ever were found on the victim's body, but the coroner reported that many of the victim's organs were greatly bruised and that a hole was found through the victim's left lung. The coroner commented on this incident. Quote: 'I've no idea what could have caused this. There is no entrance or exit wound to indicate the lung puncture and there is absolutely no external damage on the skin over the bruised organs." End quote. This is the fourth death of its kind over the past four years. The first two were Victor and Michelle Grace in 2005 and last year there was Dominic Dorian. Authorities are still investigating but are left with no leads of any kind."

Dean was excited as he read over the article; he had been itching for something to hunt for weeks now. He clicked on the first of the two highlighted names. The link led him to another article published June 29th of 2004. The article stated the same bruising found on the two victim's internal organs and tissue, the mysterious holes through heart and brain-in this particular incident-and the unknown cause of said injuries and ensuing death.

Dean navigated back to the original story, clicking on the second highlighted name. Dominic Dorian had died the exact same way on June 29th, 2006. _"June 29th again..."_ Dean thought to himself and went once more back to the original article, checking the publish date: June 29th, 2007. That had been the previous day. Dean smiled a little to himself and triumphantly clicked the "Add To Favorites" button at the top of the server window. Light streamed into the darkened room as Sam opened the door and entered, easily holding two to-go coffee cups in his large hand. He immediately noticed his brother's cheery spirits as he grinned up at him. Sam couldn't help but smile a little himself; he hadn't seen Dean in such a good mood in awhile.

"What?" he asked, narrowing his eyes a little in curiosity. Dean stood up, scratching at his messy hair.

"We're back in business; I'm pretty sure I've found us a job."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Really? Where?"

"Idaho." Dean took the top cup from Sam's hand. "Wouldn't be more than 5 hours drive from here."

Sam nodded and sat down to read over what Dean had found. Dean sipped quietly at his coffee and waited to hear Sam's take on their next possible hunt.

Sam looked surprised and leaned back in the chair. "In the first published obit, it says that the only suspect was Clarissa Grace, the victim's ex-wife. They had divorced only about a month before and people around town said she didn't seem to be taking it well."

Dean nodded. "It also says that when the cops went to question her, Clarissa had vanished. She hasn't been seen or found; she just dropped off the face of the earth." Dean wiggled his eyebrows and smirked at Sam. Sam breathed out a laugh and looked back at the computer.

He nodded. "Ok, guess we should check it out."

Dean grinned and turned briskly to start packing up to his the road. Sam shook his head, smiling at his brother.

"Try not to burst into song and start frolicking all over, Dean."

Dean tossed a bag on his bed and turned to quip back at Sam.

"Yeah, well try not to..." Dean paused, searching for a sharp, yet funny comeback. Sam raised his eyebrows in anticipation, his smile growing wider with each second of Dean's silence.

"...Shut up." Dean finally resigned and returned to putting his clothes in the bag, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sam laughed triumphantly, but as he looked upon Dean, a stab of pain darkened his heart and caused his smile to waver a little. With every happy moment of banter that the two brothers shared, there was a shadow of a reminder accompanying it.

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_Ok, so I know it's a tad slow going, but the intensity is yet to come, I promise:D_

_Reviews are always nice ; P_

_Lil_


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry if there are some spelling errors, I typed this up in a hurry so ya'll could read it. Hope you enjoy!!! )_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Impala breezed down a long stretch of almost completely deserted highway as the Boys headed towards their next hunt's place of origin. Naturally, Dean's music filled the car's interior with classic rock as he sat behind the wheel.

"Ok, so Joshua Haroldson's family live out on the east coast, but his girlfriend lived with him in Idaho. She saw him earlier on the night of his death." Sam had printed off all three articles and was still looking over them for any clues of what they might be dealing with.

"I guess we should go to her first. See if she says, see if this Haroldson guy ever mentioned anything strange before his death."

Sam sighed, slightly frustrated; as far as he could tell this hunt wasn't going to be an easy one. "You think _someone_ verses _something _might have done this to him?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, not likely. How the hell could a human being cause damage like that?"

Sam tossed the papers on the dashboard and rested his elbow on the top of the car-door, rubbing his chin in thought. "Ok then any thoughts on what might be doing it?"

Dean swtiched his head to the side. "I might have a small theory."

Sam looked at him curiously. "Really? What is it?"

Dean took in a breath, getting ready to pitch his theory. "W-"

Dean stopped, his jaw tensing, as the sound of "Bad Moon Rising" filtering out through the car-speakers. His and Sam's hands collided as they both jumped for the "Power" button. The song was silenced before its opening guitar solo could finish. The brothers gave each other a quick look, sharing the same memory that "Bad Moon Rising" always brought to mind. Both were aware that that particular song twisted the other's stomach into a painful, tangled mass everytime it was heard. Because of what that song symbolized, neither Sam nor Dean _ever_ wanted to listen to it again.

Dean cleared his throat and continued after a moment. "I think maybe this Clarissa chick lost it after her husband dumped her for another woman, killed them both in some weird way, then someone killed her, covered it up real good so now everyone just think she disappeared and now Clarissa's spirit is vengeful and is taking a new life every year."

Sam nodded along as he listened. "But there were no reported deaths in 2005, we both know that spirits follow air-tight patterns and anyway, how would Clarissa have killed her ex-husband and his new wife? I've never heard of anything like the way these people died before."

"I don't know, but that's where we come in." Dean grinned at Sam.

Sam chuckled; Dean must have missed hunting more than he had realized. "Ya know, Dean. It's kinda twisted that you're this excited over people dying."

Dean cocked his head to the side, making a sound out of the side of his mouth. "Yeah, well I _am_ a little twisted." His full lips curled into his signature smirk as he glanced over at Sam.

Sam arched his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes at his brother. ''Just a little?"

Dean paused, running a mental list of all the things that did indeed understate what he had just said. "I sure as hell never claimed to be a saint now, did I Sammy?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. _"Dean Winchester: Patron Saint of women and hunting evil."_

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A few hours later, the Impala passed through the city limits of Grangeville, Idaho. Somewhere in western Wyoming, Sad had dozed off and was still sleep, face pressed up against the window. Dean was glad to see him get some rest. Sam either wasn't able to, or didn't allow himself, to sleep much lately. Dean hated to wake Sam, but he supposed that he had to and it was in his nature to do so in a humorous manner. A grin spread across Dean's face as he approached a red stop light. He quickly checked to see if Sam's seatbelt was fastened. _"Safety before awesome pranks." _Dean would never forgive himself if one of his pranks caused Sam any harm. Seeing that Sam's seatbelt was in fact securely fastened, Dean slowed down right before the red ligh and slammed on the breaks. Sam's eyes shot open as he flew forward. The seatbelt held him safely and pulled him back against the seat.

"Damn squirrel!" Exclaimed Dean.

Sam relaxed and let out a deep breath, rubbing his sleepy, blue/green eyes. "You suck."

"_You _suck." Dean retorted, chuckling by himself.

"We there?" asked Sam, stretching his cramped muscles out.

Dean nodded and drove through the green light. "Yeeup."

Sam rubbed at the smudged spot on the window where his face had been. "So, where are we going first?"

"I'm gonna get some sleep first." Dean pulled into a hotel a little ways into town. "One of us had to drive while the other drooled all over my car." He gave Sam a plafully accusing look.

"I was not drooling!" Sam shot back, turning his head away from Dean and descretely wiping at his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve.

"Yeah sure, Lassie." Dean smiled and got out of the car, walking to the hotel office to check into a room.

It had been no more than 10 minutes after the Boys had moved their bags into room#11 of Blue River Motel when Dean crawled onto the bed furthest from the door and fell asleep within a matter of moments. Sam turned to say something to Dean, but stopped when he saw that he was no longer awake. He shook his head. Sam never understood how in the world Dean managed to fall asleep so quickly. He sighed, putting his hands on his hips and looking around the room as if to find something to do to pass the time.

He couldn't help but notice the gross over use of different shades of blue. _"It looks like an aquarium in here." _ He thought, smiling to himself. Finally Sam decided to do what he always turned to when he had nothing else to do: surf the internet. Sam took his laptop out of its leather bag and plopped down on his own bed, leaning back against the headboard and switching on the computer. He typed in a search for Joshua Haroldson's address so he and Dean could go question his girlfriend later. Sam pulled up another window and typed in the all too familiar search that he had typed in more times than he was able recall. He found the address almost immediately and was glad to be able to put all his focus on the other search.

A few false hopes were presented when some searches found websites with promising titles, but besides those and a porn website, that frankly scared the hell out of Sam, his search was unsuccessful. After almost an hour of fruitless searches, Sam decided to give it a rest for now and grab a shower before Dean woke up. Sam closed the computer, disappointed yet again by its failure to find him what he wanted. He stood up off the bed and looked down at his older brother. Sam frowned a little and let out a long sigh.

"It's ok. We've still got plenty of time. I promised you I'd find a way to get you out of this and I don't intend to stop til I do." Sam spoke quietly, half to Dean and half to himself. He knew Dean probably hadn't heard him, he didn't care. Perhaps the words still comforted him somehow. Sam walked as lightly as his tall stature allowed and went into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him. He turned on the shower and began removing his clothes. He struggled out of his sneakers, took off his pants and went to take his shirt off. As Sam pulled it over his head, a quick flash of light went across his vision, accompanied by a yell that sounded as if it were heard from far away. "No! Sam!" Sam quickly took off his shirt the rest of the way. _"Dean?"_ He jumped for the door and opened it quickly.

"De-" He stopped. Dean was still sound asleep, snoring slightly. Sam furrowed his brow, his heart racing. He could have sworn he heard Dean's voice. He closed the door slowly, pausing with his hand still on the knob, puzzled about what had just happened. It wasn't a vision...was it? He didn't see anything except the quick burst of light. Sam shook his head as if to clear it and he removed the last of his clothing, stepping into the steaming shower. The warmth of the shower engulfed Sam, the water running over his broad shoulders, back, chest, abs. He stood still for a moment, letting the water cascade over and soothe his troubled body. He turned and let the stream fun over his face, closing his eyes against the water. Another quick flash of light. "Leave him alone! Sam!" The voice sounded closer this time, causing Sam's eyes to fly open. A split second image flashed before him. Was that Dean? Was that..._blood!?_ Sam didn't yet have time to register what had just happened before a quick stab of pain jolted up his spine.

"Gah!" Sam exhaled sharply, putting one hand on the wall in front of him for support and the other on his back, rubbing at the scar. His face twisted up in confusion.

"What the hell!" He mumbled breathlessly, putting both hands on the wall in front of him. The moment of peace didn't last long; the searing headache that always started off Sam's visions jarred his skull along with another, much brighter, flash of light. Sam gripped the side of his forehead. A shot of Dean filled Sam's eyes, he looked to be in intense pain, screaming, though there was no sound. Another flash of Dean again, blood trickling in abundance from between his clenched teeth. Another flash brought complete darkness before Sam's vision. "Sam! No! Sam!" The voice, this time, sounded with defeaning volume in Sam's ears. A searing pain exploded through his stomach next, dragging him to his knees, doubled over in pain. It felt like someone had driven a spear clean through his abdomin. Sam cried out, eyes clenched shut, gasping for air. He could have sworn that he tasted copper when, as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone. Sam's vision cleared and he was left with the sound of someone pounding on the bathroom door.

"Sam! What's happening? Are you ok?" Dean's voice was riddled with worry and urgency; it was evident that the side of Dean that always appeared when Sam was in trouble had taken over. Sam pulled himself off the floor of the shower, his back red and slightly numb from where the stream of water was hitting him. His heart was racing and his head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.

"Sam! Answer me damnit!"

Sam took in a deep breath. "I'm f-...I'm fine, Dean." He turned off the shower and put a hand to his stomach, he felt slightly nauseous. Dean's voice came muffled through the door again.

"What the hell happened?"

Sam stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, his hand shaking before his eyes.

"Uhh..." He scrunched up his face and roughly rubbed his forehead with his long fingers. "Guh..."

On the other side of the door, Dean was practically pacing. He ran a hand over his face, impatient and eager to hear what was wrong with Sam. "Are you gonna be out soon?"

The door opened suddenly, causing Dean to step back, a bit surprised. Sam had already dressed, but his hair was still laced with beaded water.

"What's wrong? Are you ok?" Dean looked up at his brother's pale face.

"I..." Sam's breathing still hadn't evened out quite yet. "...I don't know."

Sam took a step out of the doorway, his shaking legs giving out a little, tripping him forward. Dean was already right next to him, supporting his shaking form.

"Whoa whoa, take it easy, alright?" Dean helped him over to sit on the bed and took a seat next to him, his hand hovering above Sam's shoulder. Sam bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran his hands through his wet hair and over the back of his head. Dean swallowed over the lump in his throat.

"Was it a vision?"

Sam nodded slowly. "But not like any one I've had before."

Dean clenched his jaw, brow furrowing. "What do ya mean?"

Sam closed his eyes. He _hated_ it when he had visions about Dean, but what he hated more was having to tell him about them.

"Come on, Sammy. Talk to me." Dean's smile nervous yet warm.

Sam exhaled and sat back up. "The vision didn't last more than 5 seconds and it was sort of...broken up...into separate parts. But I heard...you calling me."

Dean's muscles tensed all over his body. He wasn't too crazy about Sam having any visions, but he especially hated the ones that involved himself. Dean had seen first hand what Sam would be willing to do to keep a vision about his brother from coming true.

"What'd you see?" Dean's voice was mellow and low. Sam glanced over at Dean then looked down intently at the floor. He cleared his throat.

"You...bleeding and in pain." Sam bounced his leg up and down rapidly, his heel tapping rapidly against the carpet, keeping his gaze down.

"Oh..." Dean mumbled, joining Sam's fascination with the navy blue floor. It had been what he had feared Sam would say. "Did I...uh..die?"

"No, I don't think so." Sam said firmly, letting out a breath of relief as he replied. _"God I hope not."_ Sam finally looked at Dean. Dean nodded and raised his eyebrows, closing his eyes; a look that Sam knew meant "Well, that's a plus."

"Dean, it felt...real. More real than previous visions. I felt..."

Dean turned his head a little to the side in anticipation.

"...I felt...pain. Excruciating pain. I even could have sworn I tasted blood, and..." Sam clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his temples in a clockwise motion with both hands. "God, my head is killing me."

Dean immediately stood up and went over to their pile of various bags, rummaging through them. He returned with Tylenol and a glass of water.

"Here..." He said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam sighed and smiled weakly yet gratefully up at his brother, taking the pills and water from his hands. Dean sat on the bed across from Sam, leaning forward to rest his lower arms on his knees, hands clasped together.

"You ok?" His intense, green eyes, still flecked with worry, searched Sam's face.

Sam breathed out a short laugh. "I'm super."

Dean chuckled and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Still a smartass. You _must_ be alright."

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_[The brackets refer back to my fic "Blink"_

_Ok, so hope maybe that was a little more fun to read. _

_More intensity to come...A LOT more:D_

_Reviews rock out loud!_

_Lil_


	4. Chapter 4

_Not a big fan of the begining of this chapter, but I like the end. Hope ya'll enjoy!) Again sorry if there are errors, I just really wanted to type this up quickly and post it for ya'll._

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Mandy Hawkins looked up from her steaming cup of coffee as the doorbell to her house rang. She sighed and stood up, taking her time to answer the door. She looked through the window on the door at two men in suits standing on her front porch. Mandy opened the door slowly.

"Yes?"

The taller of the men gave her a warm smile. "Are you Mandy Hawkins?"

Mandy nodded, opening the door fully.

The man continued. "I'm detective Arthur, this is detective Lance. May we ask you some questions about Joshua?"

Mandy frowned. "Oh..." She furrowed her brow sadly and silently ushered the two detectives inside. Sam and Dean stepped through the doorway and followed Mandy as she led them to the kitchen.

"I just made some coffee, would either of you like some?" Her words were soft and choked with emotion.

Sam smiled dolefully and shook his head gently. "No, no thank you Miss Hawkins."

Mandy returned to her seat. "Please, sit down."

Sam and Dean took seats across from Mandy, leaning forward on the table and clasping their hands in an almost frighteningly identicle manner.

"Did Joshua act...strange before his death? Mention anything about his health or act bizzare in any way?" Sam spoke softly, clearly sensing Mandy's anguish.

Mandy thought for a moment and shook her head finally. "Nothing I can recall."

The slightly older man spoke up after a moment. "Do you know of anyone who might haved wished harm upon your boyfriend?"

Mandy's face twitched a little and she bit her lip. She shook her head, letting out a sigh as she spoke. "No, not that I know of."

Sam and Dean gave each other a quick, disappointed look. Honestly, they both had basically nothing to go on-except Dean's theory-and they would have greatly appreciated any hints this Mandy woman might be able to give them.

Sam took in a deep inhale, looking back at Mandy. "What had Joshua been doing on the night of his passing?"

Mandy tapped the side of her coffee-mug with her fingernails. "Well, Josh was here with me for most of the evening, but it was guys night, so he and his friends went out to a downtown bar."

Dean perked up his eyebrows. "Got a name?"

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Later that night, the Boys made their way to the downtown bar. Sam bit at his thumb nail and looked out the window at the darkened streets as the flew by him.

"I'm begining to think this isn't our kinda thing." Chimed in Dean, breaking through Sam's thoughts.

"People don't just die like that, Dean. This is definitely our kinda thing." Sam paused and shook his head. "But what the hell could this be?"

Sam seemed to be a little more on edge than normal. Dean noticed this and gave Sam a puzzled look. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam fidgeted uneasily in his seat. "It's just..." He really couldn't quite explain it, he just had...a feeling. Sam sighed, not being able to verbalize what was troubling him. "Nevermind, it's nothing I guess."

Dean gave him a slightly worried look. "Ya sure? You're acting really jumpy, dude."

Sam shook his head. "I'm fine." The truth was, Sam couldn't stop replaying what had happened in his vision earlier that day. He didn't know what caused his brother so much pain in it, he didn't know if perhaps the same thing that was causing all these deaths was doing it, he didn't know if going to this bar(Or anywhere for that matter) would ultimately play into the vision coming true. Sam had considered all these possibilities and realized he had no idea what might or might not aid the possible occurence of his visions, and that scared him, leaving him feeling anxious and _very_ alert.

"This is it." Dean broke the silence that had dominated most of their drive through town. He pulled into the parking lot of a bar called Shipley's. Sam's lips curled up a bit in disgust as he got out of the Impala.

"Shady looking place." he mumbled.

Dean's car door squeaked shut. "As long as it has alcohol, it's good enough for me." He grinned at Sam as he walked around the front of the Impala and up the stairs to the entrance of the bar. Sam breathed out a laugh and shook his head, following Dean inside.

The room was crowded, sounding with lame, jukebox music and the dull roar of multiple conversations being held all at once. The Boys walked over to the bar, taking two vacant seats. The bartender was a brunnette in her mid to late twenties. She wore a skin-tight black tank top that molded to and showed off her hour glass figure.

"What can I get you boys this evening?" She leaned foward on the bar, resting on the back of her palms.

Dean's first-class-charmer grin was cranked up to the max. Sam rolled his eyes. _"And only after being here a little over a minute. Tha'ts gotta be a world record." _

"Two beers, please." Sam interrupted the bartender's and Dean's mutual, ogling stare.

The bartender pulled her gaze away and looked at Sam. "Comin' right up." She gave Dean one last grin and went to get their order.

Dean turned to Sam, chuckling. "Ooh man!" He thumped the bar a few times with his fist.

Sam shook his head at him and took a look around the room. "Could you work any faster, Dean?"

Dean looked at him defensively. "I don't work _that_ fast."

Sam laughed and looked back at Dean. "Yeah right. You could qualify for the Olympics. Listen, seriously. We have to try and figure this out."

Dean nodded and glanced down the bar at the brunnette as she uncapped two beers. He looked back at Sam, lowering his voice. "Maybe she was working the night Haroldson went missing. We could ask her, see if she saw anything."

Sam looked quickly at the bartender as she walked back over to them. "Alright, fine." he whispered quickly.

"Here ya go." She placed the beers in front of Sam and Dean. "Anything else I can get for ya'll?"

Dean rested his lower arm against the bar. "Yeah, actually. Did you happen to be working the night of the 29th?"

The woman furrowed her brow a little and put her hands on her hips. "Yes, as a matter of fact I was...why?"

"We're reporters from the local newspaper back in Boise. I'm Dean, this is Sam."

The bartender nodded and smiled. "Hi, I'm Charlotte. What are ya'll doing a story on?"

"The strange deaths that have occured over the past few years, most recently a man named Joshua Haroldson." Dean reached into his jacket as he spoke and pulled out a picture he had printed off. "He was here the night he died. Did you happen to see him?"

Charlotte took the picture, raising her eyebrows a little as she studied it. "Yeah yeah, I think I do remember seeing him. Was here with some friends."

Dean nodded. "That's right. And did he maybe get into a brawl with anyone or do anything strange?"

Charlotte laughed a little. "No. As I recall he just sat, boozing and laughing with his pals." She shrugged. "Sorry, nothing of note really comes to mind."

Dean nodded, looking Charlotte up and down. "That's a nice necklace." He grinned and pointed to the intricate symbol hanging low on a silver chain around Charlotte's neck.

She looked down. "Oh this? Thanks." Charlotte leaned forward on her elbows. "It's a good luck charm." She smiled flirtatiously at Dean.

"Does it work?" asked Dean, flicking up his eyebrows.

Charlotte giggled violently. "It seems to be right now."

Sam gave Dean a disgusted/amused look as he and Charlotte shared a hearty laugh over something of no particular hilarity. Charlotted stifled her giggling as someone down the bar motioned to her. "Oh, excuse me."

Dean watched after her then turned back to Sam. Sam gave him an awkward smile and took a long drink of beer.

"What?" asked Dean, still a little tickled from his previous laughing fit.

"That was painful."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on, man. That chick is hot!" Dean clenched his teeth on the last word and looked giddily back at Charlotte.

Dean's energy was officially making Sam uncomfortable. "Alright..." He took another gulp of beer. "This isn't getting us anywhere, let's go."

Dean looked back at Sam, puzzled. "What? We just got here."

Sam had already stood up. "Dean, we don't have anyone to question. We should focus on what's going on here."

Sam started to walk away, Dean hurried after him, grabbing at the sleeve of his jacket. "Wait..."

Sam turned back impatiently. Dean looked back at Charlotte longingly. "...look, here..." He dug into his pocket and fished out the Impala's keys, handing them to Sam. "...Go ahead back. Do some research, hack into accounts, do your thing."

"And how are you supposed to get back?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm gonna do a little research of my own." Dean's grin was at subterranean gutter level.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Dean, I'm...I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Dean waved the comment away with a gesture of his hand. "Aw, come on. It'll be fine, Sammy."

Sam looked at his brother for a good minute. "Fine." He sighed finally.

Dean grinned, clapped Sam on the shoulders and turned to go back to his seat. "Oh and Sam..."

Sam stopped and turned again, raising his eyebrows at his brother.

"...Don't wait up." Dean finished, grinning and waggling his eyebrows.

Sam shook his head as Dean sat back down and continued shamelessly flirting with the bartender.

"I never do." Sam said under his breath as he turned and went out the door. He drove the good ten minutes back to the hotel and immediately collapsed onto his bed. Sam was exhausted and didn't feel much like doing any research on a subject that he and Dean never managed to discover. Sam had wanted Dean to leave the bar so they could brainstorm on what was causing the local deaths. Yes, they needed to figure that out, but the main reason Sam had wanted them both to leave the bar was because he felt...uneasy. He couldn't stop replaying his visions over and over in his head. Sam wanted Dean to be somewhere nearby...safe. That way he could be damn sure that the look of pain on Dean's face in his vision would _never_ be able to be relived in reality. The only reason Sam had given into Dean's request was because he felt after all that had happened over the past year, and especially the past few months, Dean needed a break of some sort; a distraction if nothing else.

Sam tried to perhaps get some sleep, but he only managed to doze off a few times at the most; tossing and turning the rest of the time. After awhile, he sighed in frustration and rolled over to look at the clock. It was nearly one A.M. Sam gave into the battle that his body was fighting with him to stay awake. He pushed himself up off the bed and went over to his trusty computer, bringing up the welcome screen.

Back At Shipley's

The bar had completely emptied except for Dean and Charlotte. They had chatted all throughout the night with no real plans of stopping. Charlotte was cleaning off some tables and laughing at something Dean had said.

Dean chuckled and looked at his watch. "Oh sorry, hope I'm not keeping you here."

Charlotte smiled and looked knowingly at Dean, resting a bucket of empty beer bottles on her hip. "Don't play dumb with me. We both know what you've got your mind on."

Dean tried to hold back a smile, hopefully along with his confirmation of Charlotte's accusal.

"Don't worry..." Charlotte grinned and walked back behind the bar, dumping the bottles in the trashcan. "...We're on the same page." She arched her eyebrow playfully at Dean.

He grinned and drank the last of his whiskey; he had switched from beer at some point in the night.

"So," Charlotte looked down, cleaning spilled liquor off the bar. "Have you found anything for your story about those deaths?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Can't find any disease that fits the bill. Has to be something else." Dean's moderately buzzed state caused him to stare a little into space and muse.

"Any reason to believe a person somehow did it?" Charlotted busied herself with drying off beer mugs.

Dean shrugged. "All I know is, there's something not right about it. Get the feeling they weren't accidents." Dean looked back at Charlotte. She smiled at him a little, looking him up and down slowly.

"Would you like another?"

Dean held up his empty glass, looking at it comtemplatively

"Yeah, one more."

At The Motel

Sam yet again came up with nothing on his searches. He drummed his fingers lightly on the keys, thinking about what search he hadn't tried yet.

"Huh..." He mumbled to himself and typed in the search "Clarissa Grace." A few search results showed up. A news article about an inspirational speech she gave at a local school a year ago, phone number listed on an online phonebook, and a marriage announcement. Sam clicked on the first search result. Absolutely no clues resulted, only a brief summary of her speech and a picture of her surrounded by children. She was a rather cold looking woman, about in her mid fifties. Sam exed out of it and went to the marriage announcement next.

"Victor Augustus Grace and Clarissa Charlotte Bardon are to be married on June the 29th." The article was from back in 1980.

Sam skimmed over the article, finding nothing of real importance. He scrolled back up to the top of the page and was about the click the "Back" button when the picture caught his attention more closely. Sam froze and stared at the young woman in the picture. Slowly he clicked to enlarge the photo. Sam felt as his heart rose to an alarmingly fast rate until it was pounding almost painfully against his rib-cage.

"Oh my God..." His voice cracked as he spoke under his breath. Sam jumped up and ran out the door to the Impala, leaving the picture of a 28 year old Clarissa Grace to smile out from the glow of the computer screen; a picture of Charlotte the bartender.

At Shipley's

"Alright, all ready." Charlotted looked intently at Dean, smiling a little.

"Alright." Dean grinned at her and downed the rest of his drink, standing up off the barstool.

"So is-" Dean stumbled back a little. He chuckled. "I guess I had more to drink than I thought."

Charlotte smirked at him, still leaning on her elbows against the bar, watching Dean with an amused air. "No. You're no light-weight. You didn't have enough to mess you up like this."

Deank blinked, giving Charlotte a puzzled look as she went in and out of focus before his eyes. "Wha-..what? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean put a hand to his head, he was starting to feel extremely dizzy.

Charlotte sighed, looking at her watch boredly. "Give it another minute."

Even through his increasing dizziness and calling to go to sleep, Dean was able to make the starting realization. "What'd...what...the hell did you give me?"

Charlotted smiled and sauntered out from behind the bar, walking slowly towards Dean. "You really should be careful of who's business you go sticking your cute little nose into." Her face was no longer pleasant and playful, but bitter and darkened by hatred.

Dean backed up slowly as Charlotte neared him. "You did it didn't you." He smiled bitterly. "How?"

Charlotte stopped, face close to Dean's. She gave his chest a harsh shove, tripping Dean backwards against a wall. Dean hit it hard and slid down, coming to sit on the floor. He coughed, the blow knocking the breath from he slightly. Charlotte stepped up and placed her her heeled shoes on either side of Dean's legs, squatting down to come face to face with him.

"You'll find out soon enough how I did it." Her smirk was bitterly terrifying, something unhumane glistened in her dark eyes.

Dean's lips twitched in anger, anger at himself for letting this happen, for letting himself become so vulnerable. He had to fight to keep his eyes open as another wave of dizziness and fatigue hit him. Charlotte laughed deeply, seeing his eyes flutter a little.

"It's nothing personal, Dean...I just can't leave loose ends."

Dean wanted to scream at himself as he finally lost his fight with consciousness, he lost his ability to defend himself, and he would probably loose his life next.

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Sam floored the Impala through all the orange, blinking lights in town, thankful that the hour was late enough that the regular signals had been switched off. His knuckles were ghostly as he gripped the steering wheel. Sam didn't know how Clarissa managed to make herself look like the way she did at 28, but he knew that Clarissa...Charlotte had to be the one who was resonsible for the deaths that had taken place over the last three years, for the _murders_.

She killed those people, Sam just knew it. And now she had Dean at her fingertips, able to strike again at any time. _"Oh God, Dean. Please still be there." _Sam raced through the last blinking light before the bar. Shipley's came into view. Sam pushed the Impala to go faster and peeled into the parking lot. He jumped out of the car, not bothering to cut the engine. The bar was dark, all the neon signs and lights inside had been switched off. Sam tried the door, but it was locked.

"Dean!" He peered through the windows desperately. There didn't appear to be anyone inside. Sam ran off the porch and around the side of the building. He came to an alley way around back. Sam desperately looked both ways, calling his brother's name again. He tried the door that led from the bar to the alley he was in; locked. Sam slammed his fist hard against the door in frustration. He stood back, breathing heavily, his heart drumming loudly in his ears. Sam ran his hands through his hair and rested them on the back of his head.

_"What now? What the hell do I do now!!!"_ He looked down, something catching his eye on the ground. Water trickled into a small puddle where the asphalt caved a little. Sam walked over and bent down, reaching to pick something out of the puddle. He pulled out a black, retangular piece of fabric with a pointed end and a lone button on it. Sam studied it carefully. No doubt, it was from Dean's black jacket he had been wearing that evening, one of the flaps that buttoned down on both shoulders. Sam swallowed hard, not helping but think that perhaps this piece had been accidently ripped from Dean's jacket in some sort of struggle.

"Gah..." Sam choked on the emotion that was begining to bubble up in his throat. "...Dean."

He stood up, putting the fabric safely in his pocket, and ran back around the side of the building. Sam's head was killing him as he slowed to a fast walk towards the Impala. He shook it off and reached for the door handle.

An all too familiar flash of light stopped Sam dead in his tracks. The voice of his brother screamed in his ears. _"Leave him alone! No! Sam!"_ Sam's vision blacked and as if on cue, the stab of pain vibrated of his back, more intense this time, causing Sam to fall against the Impala, gasping. Before he could recover, the excruciating pain penetrated his stomach.

"Gah!" Sam slid down to the pavement, barely able to brace himself against his hands. The pain twisted inside him, jerking him onto his side to writhe against it. Sam gasped for air, tasting his own blood in his mouth. A flash of light ended the pain and brought Sam the view of Dean, chained by his bleeding wrists to the ceiling, silently crying out in pain as Charlotte stood in front of him, holding some kind of doll. Flash: the doll was right before Sam's vision, a needle imbedded in it's chest. Flash: Blood gushed out from between Dean's clenched teeth, his face softening after a few moments and his head falling forward onto his blood-stained chest. Flash: A dimly lit room, perhaps a basement. Flash: A street sign. Sam's vision whitened, his brother's voice calling, his own name echoing through his ears, then all was silent.

Sam was left staring up at the stars from his horizontal position on the ground as the Impala's engine rumbled right next to him. Sam's chest rose and fell quickly as he scrambled to sit up. His vision was blurred with tears, his cheeks and temples wetted by one's that had already fallen. Sam grabbed at the top of the Impala's driver's side door, pulling himself up shakily. He ran his shaking hands over his face, horrified by the vision that had just plagued him.

"No no no no..." Sam mumbled, shaking his head. He should have _made _Dean leave, Sam knew something hadn't been right, he had felt it. He got into the car and slowly put his hands on the wheel, lost in thought. _"Damnit, what had that street sign say? What the hell was it?" _Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow against the window, desperately trying to remember. After a moment, his eyes flew open. _"Clearview Road. That was it!" _ Sam reached over and pulled a map out of the glove compartment, searching for the street name. Sam's fingers stopped on the name.

"Son of a bitch..." The street was way out in the country, a relatively far drive. Sam put the car in reverse and squealed out of the parking lot, most likely leaving black marks on the asphalt. Sam twisted his tight grip on the steering wheel. _"Voodoo.." _The bitch had been using voodoo dolls to kill those people. Sam could have kicked himself for not thinking about it earlier, all he signs were there: No harm done to the outter body, inner body beat to hell. Sam carefully reviewed his vision again. _"It _has_ to be voodoo. She had a doll, she was using it on De-" _A sick feeling of panic caused Sam to feel nauseous. He took in a shuddering breath. _"Oh please, God. No...no"_

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_Dun dun dun dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!!!!_

_Ok, so Hurt!Winchesters rejoice(Especially Hurt!Dean) Cause there is gonna be A LOT in these next few chapters. Along with Protective!Winchesters as well. _

_Not really sure how many more there will be, but I'm thinking 5? 6 altogether? We'll see what happens._

_Reviews are always good, like to know where I need improvement and what ya'll think._

_Thanks for reading!!!!_

_Lil_


	5. Chapter 5

_So so so so so so so so sorry for being so naughty and not posting an update in over a month:( I had the UD all written a looong time ago, but I read over it and realized...it sucked out loud!!! Haha, so I fixed it(Hopefully anyways) and here it is. Ok, I know this is the chapter I know ya'll have been reading this fic for...Hurt!Dean!!!\O/ Hope you enjoy! Sorry if there are mistakes, just wanted to get this posted for ya'll._

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Dean's senses stirred as he felt the strange sensation of being suspended in mid air. He slowly opened his bright green eyes; his lids felt unusually heavy. Dean's mind felt clouded and tired, he couldn't quite recall what had caused him to feel the way he did. He blinked heavily a few times, trying to bring his hand up to rub his blurred vision. Something cold and rigid held him back from doing anything of the sort. _"What the hell?" _Dean let his head fall back to look up. Both his hands were shackled over his head and looped to a sturdy hook on the ceiling. Dean tugged at them, but had little leverage; the tips of his boots were a few inches short of touching the floor beneath him. He swung a little from side to side awkwardly, the steel cuffs cutting painfully into his hands and wrists.

"Great." He mumbled, aggravated, as he brought his head back up to take a look around him. Dean was in a damp, dark room; the stairs a ways to his left would indicate a basement. A single, bare bulb and a lit fireplace cast a dull glow on numerous jars, bottles and strange objects lined up on shelves at the opposite wall from Dean.

"What the hell?" Dean heard a creak and looked to his left to see a brunette coming down the stairs. _"Riiight."_ The events of earlier that night came flooding back to Dean.

Charlotte must have felt the daggers Dean was staring at her; she looked over at him seemingly surprised by his consciousness.

"Oh, you're awake already." She smiled, strolling over to Dean. Dean's muscles tensed, his body cringing away from Charlotte as she stood close to him. She eyed Dean's jacket, brushing away the dried mud that coated it.

"Hope you didn't like your coat too much." She flicked her eyes up and nodded at the ripped fabric on Dean's shoulder. "Wasn't really easy hauling you out to the car."

Dean kicked his boot against Charlotte's pelvis, throwing her backwards to the ground.

"Get your claws off of me!" He snapped angrily.

Charlotte pushed herself up onto her hands and looked at Dean, her mouth curling into a smile.

"Oooh, rough. Just the way I like it." She stood up and dusted herself off. "But still, that wasn't very nice, Dean." She turned her back to Dean and walked over to a chest sitting in the opposite corner. Charlotte unlocked and opened it, taking out something that Dean couldn't see.

"You killed those people?" Dean pulled more on his restraints, only succeeding to make another jagged cut on his wrist.

Charlotte sighed, seemingly bored with the conversation.

"Yes, yes. You caught me."

She turned around, making a dramatic gesture with one hand, keeping the other hidden behind her back. "I did it."

She giggled ferociously, causing Dean to twitch in disgust. This woman was insane, and not just in a figure of speech way. Literally...not...sane.

"And Clarissa Grace? Did you murder her too?"

Charlotte's giggle turned into a full on laugh.

"No..." She said as she sauntered towards Dean. "...I didn't kill her."

"She's still alive?"

Charlotte nodded. "You're lookin' at her, stud."

Dean furrowed his brow down at Charlotte, trying to figure out where this was going. "What? Clarissa Grace was in her fifties."

Charlotte pouted. "Aww, you calling me old? Do I not look good for my age? You didn't seem to think so back at the bar."

Dean looked her up and down a moment. "Didn't know I was walking into a cradle-robbing situation at the time." He smiled sarcastically.

Charlotte sucked in a breath. "Ooo, naughty boy."

Dean moved right along, not interested in reciprocating this woman's version of flirting.

"How'd you do it? All of it?"

Charlotte smirked and moved the hand that was behind her back, bringing what it held out into the open. Dean stared down at a plain, featureless white doll. He arched his eyebrow a bit and let out a low whistle.

"Wow...Sure hope your victims didn't scream too loud when you showed them that thing." A smile curled at Dean's lips, pleased with his smartass remark.

Charlotte smiled, clearly annoyed. "This, my dear boy, is a Voodoo doll."

Dean's smiled flickered a little. Why hadn't he thought of that before? It seemed so obvious now.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "Oh yes." She turned, walking over to look into the flames that burned in the fireplace across the room from where Dean was chained.

"You see..." She turned briefly. "...Dean. I'm gonna let you in on something, the reason this whole thing started."

Dean tugged, annoyed, at his shackles with no luck of freeing himself.

"My husband, Victor, and I had been married for twenty-three years before his tragic death. And three years ago, he decided to cheat on me with his slut of a secretary."

Dean could hear the venom in her voice.

"And he left me for her, marrying the whore less than a month after the divorce was finalized."

Dean remembered the article announcing Victor and his new wife's deaths.

"Guess you didn't take that well."

Charlotte turned and glared at Dean. Her voice was louder this time.

"I swore to myself that I would _never_ be rejected by another man...Ever!" She walked towards Dean slowly, lips contorting angrily as she spoke.

"So I started doing a little research, finally discovering a spell of youth in an old book. And you ask 'why dolls' then?" Charlotte continued, not really waiting for Dean's reply.

"Well, I started practicing and experimenting with Voodoo, coming up with a _fabulous_ invention. You see, Dean, not all Voodoo dolls have to look like their victim. All you need is some hair, a drop of blood, skin; anything containing the victim's DNA will do."

Dean looked contemptuously down at Charlotte as she now came to stand right before him. She held the Voodoo doll up, inches from Dean's face.

"I use the doll on someone..." She danced the doll playfully before him.

"...The person dies, the doll takes in their life force, and then..." Charlotte cradled the doll to her chest, smiling wickedly.

"...It goes to me, keeping me young as long as I choose. One life taken means another year of youth for me."

Anger boiled up inside of Dean. He shook his head, disgusted with the personified evil that stood before him.

"Can't say I blame your husband. If I were married to a crazy bitch, I'd dump her ass too." Dean's signature smart-alec smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

Charlotte's features darkened intensely, her lips trembling with words of rage that refused to leave her mouth. Something shiny in her hand caught Dean's attention; he hadn't noticed it before and he didn't have time to figure out what it was before Charlotte shoved a long, sharp pin into his slightly exposed hip.

Dean let out a cry of pain, clenching his teeth in attempts to stifle it. Charlotte twisted the pin and Dean could have sworn he felt it scratch against his hip bone before it was extracted. Charlotte ripped the pin out violently and held it up so Dean could see his own blood dripping down it.

"Like I said, you should watch what you say. It could get you into trouble."

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Dried leaves skittered and danced away from the Impala's wheels as Sam floored the car down a secluded, country road. He searched wildly about for the sign he had seen in his vision. Not much else than open fields were visible to the eye. The occasional house in the distance, which was getting less and less frequent, was the only indication of civilization.

Sam's jaw was set, his eyes narrowed out into the dark night in concentration. There was no way in hell he was letting this twisted excuse of a woman hurt Dean, no way he was going to let her _kill _Dean. Sam just hoped he would arrive before it was too late. He hoped at this moment that he wasn't already too late. _"No."_ Sam's mind shooed away the possibility. He would know if Dean was de-...not ok.

Sam eyed his cell phone sitting quietly on the seat next to him. For some reason, most likely in his panic, he hadn't thought about calling Dean when he first found the article. Sam groaned in frustration, cursing himself for not thinking straight. What if a phone call to Dean could've prevented all this, stopped him from being hauled off to God knows where by a psycho-bitch serial killer. Sam hit the speed dial button #1 and the phone dialed Dean's number; it was worth a try. Sam didn't expect Dean to answer...and he didn't.

"Hello?"

Sam froze as the line connected and a woman's voice picked up.

"Hellooooo? Ya there uh...'Sammy'?"

Sam's grip tightened around the phone. "Where's Dean?"

The woman's voice was sickeningly cheery. "Oh Sam! I remember you. From the bar, right?"

"Where!?" Demanded Sam in a steady, low voice.

"He's right here. Didya wanna talk to him?"

Sam heard Charlotte's voice from a little farther away. "Say hi to _Sammy_."

Heavy, raspy breaths sounded into the phone. Sam's stomach twisted unpleasantly. "Dean?"

He heard Charlotte's far off voice again, louder this time. "Speak!"

There was a groan and a choked gasp of pain. "No, Dean!"

Charlotte's giggle taunted Sam's ears.

"Sorry excuse for a 'Hi' don't you think, Sam?"

Sam slammed his hand angrily against the steering wheel.

"If you touch him, I swear to God-!"

"Oh, don't worry. You have my word. I won't _touch _him."

Anger burned deep inside Sam. "You hurt him, I'll _kill_ you."

Charlotte's smirk showed through in her voice.

"Strong words from a man who doesn't even know where I am."

The line clicked off. Sam threw the phone to the floor, his face burning with anger. His heart beat rapidly with renewed adrenaline and determination to save his brother. Sam's hands gripped the wheel with crushing force and he pushed the Impala to go faster.

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Dean's head hung forward lazily as his sore shoulders heaved with each laborious breath. Blood ran in beads from his mouth and his body ached all over from the Voodoo torture. Charlotte put down the cell phone she had found ringing in Dean's jacket and picked back up the pale doll, now riddled with holes and stained with its victim's blood.

"Why'd you...why'd you do that?" Dean's voice was weak and breathy. "He had nothing to do with this."

Charlotte smiled, stroking the doll absently.

"No. But it sure was fun seeing the look on your face when the phone rang." She laughed remembering the broken yet hopeful look that smoothed across Dean's features when the classic rock ring tone sounded through the room.

Dean glared at Charlotte against heavy eyelids; her taunts were hitting home just like he knew she intended. Dean's entire form shook slightly. Half from the pure hatred and anger he felt towards this torturess in front of him and half from the pain that had been ripping through his body for the past ten minutes. His insides screamed messages of distress to his already pounding brain and his head began to feel light and loopy. He felt like he had just gone twenty rounds with Muhammad Ali and had his ass handed to him every time.

"Plus..." Continued Charlotte with a smug look stretching across her beautiful yet cruel features. "...I get the sneaking suspicion that this uh, _Sammy _of yours? Isn't gonna throw in the towel so easily. I think he won't stop til he finds you. And if he does?"

Charlotte gripped Dean's chin in her hand and lifted his face up to look at her. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "It'll be yet another year for me."

Dean lunged forward against his restraints, stepping Charlotte back a few paces.

"You stay away from him! Don't you _dare_ go near him!" Dean's aching lungs exerted themselves to the breaking point in order to get across the anger that he felt. It left him wheezing and that much closer to losing the battle with consciousness. Charlotte cocked her head to the side, faux confusion scrunching her face.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Deano. But I'm pretty sure there won't be anything you can do about it."

Dean glared at her with green eyes now stolen of their lustre and left only with wariness. He didn't want to justify Charlotte's smugness with an answer he wasn't sure he'd be able to follow through with. Charlotte smirked at Dean's silence.

"Didn't think so."

She lifted the needle and slowly pushed it through the doll's midsection. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, too tired to cry out against the excruciating pain twisting through his stomach. A choked noise escaped Dean's lips as the now familiar taste of blood bubbled up in his throat. Dean's eyes fluttered and finally closed. His head nodded forward and the crimson liquid poured over his chin. Dean's mind battled between begging Sam to come and save him and ordering him to stay away. Neither side was able to win the battle as relieving darkness washed over him.

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_Oh noes!!!!\O/ Is Dean dead??!??! Well...actually he's not. He's just sleeping. I promised I wouldn't kill either of the boys for awhile and I'm sticking to it._

_Double!Hurt!Winchester is next:D Yeah, I'm twisted...never denied it._

_Really hope ya'll continued to read this. Like I said, I apologize for there being such a long wait for an UD._

_Reviews are like Crystal Light, and I'm Dane Cook...Don't ask, it's late and I'm very tired._

_-oOo-Lil-oOo-_


	6. Chapter 6

_Once again I am sososososososososososososososo sorry for being such a terrible person and waiting this long to UD, but I've just gotten annoyingly picky on fanfics the last few months. Ok so here it is, the V For Voodoo finale! \o/ Hope it satisfies ya'll as a final chapter and hope it quenches all those Hurt! Protective!Winchester fanatic's hungers out there as well ; ) Let me know._

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Dirt picked up in clouds off of the faded dirt road. Sam had seen and turned sharply at the broken down and weed covered sign marked Clearview Road a couple miles back. The road merged with the trees it was running parallel with after awhile and the Impala turned down a path cutting through the thick forest. Sam squinted around into the crushing darkness surrounding him. The car's lights were the only source of illumination as they cast fanned out bands on the road in front of him.

Sam was sure that no one probably even knew that this road even existed anymore. It was narrow and grown over by weeds and long grass. Two rows of tire tracks were the only indication that it had even been used lately. Sam's eyes darted around, seeing little more than the wide tree trunks on either side of the car. _"This woman sure enjoys her privacy...either that or she just picked some place where no one would hear the screams." _Sam thought angrily. He narrowly missed hitting a deer as it pranced across the road.

It couldn't be that much further, could it? Sam was beginning to worry he had started in the wrong direction when he spotted the faint glow of spot lights far off through the trees. His heart swelled in his chest as a glimmer of hope bloomed within him.

"Almost there." Sam mumbled, as if Dean might some how hear him.

The road opened up in front of a shabby looking house. Sam sharply braked the Impala and turned off the ignition. Throwing the door open, he leapt from the car nearly before the engine had time to die down. He ran up to the door and reached into his jacket, pulling out his favorite gun. Holding it in both hands with the barrel pointed upwards, Sam nudged the door with his foot. It creaked open on its rusted hinges and lightly bumped against the adjacent wall.

Sam stepped cautiously inside the house and looked around, sweeping his gun out front and moving it with his gaze. He turned in a slow circle, surveying the entry room carefully. The coast looked clear. No one, in fact, appeared to be home. Sam went from room to room, stepping as lightly as his tall frame allowed.

He came to a room at the far side of the house and saw through the window a silver Honda parked out back. _Someone _was there. Sam's stomach twisted; he didn't see any signs of Dean anywhere. He walked back to the main room and scanned around it once more. An orange strip of light at the bottom of a door caught his eye this time. Sam threw open the door. Stairs leading down to a basement stretched out before him. He headed down the steps, gun held down at an angle. As he stepped off the last stair, Sam lifted his aim back up and looked to the right, slowly moving his gaze around the dark room.

His eyes stopped on a form hanging in the shadows at the far side of the room. A flicker of fire-light cut through the darkness and momentarily illuminated the down-turned face of the figure. Sam's aim shook and then fell.

"Dean!" He ran over, stowing the gun back in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Dean? Dean, wake up."

Sam put his hands gently on either side of Dean's neck, easing his head up. Dean's head lolled weakly against Sam's touch and his eyes remained closed. Sam saw the copious amount of dried blood on Dean's lips and chin; a few fresh drops slid from the corners of his mouth. Sam's vision came screaming back to him, spurring his anxiety and making him doubt weather or not Dean had lived in it.

"No...no come on, Dean..." Sam gently patted the side of Dean's face and then shook him strongly.

"Open your _damn_ eyes, Dean!"

Sam's eyes welled a bit as anxiety started to take over. He pressed his fingers under Dean's jaw, feeling for a pulse. He pressed harder when he didn't feel anything. Come _on_, there had to be a-there! Sam felt a rhythm. It was weak, but still was there and drumming non-the-less.

A quiet noise parted Dean's lips. Sam waited, breath held momentarily in his chest, making sure he hadn't imagined it.

"S-S-am?"

A grin of relief stretched across Sam's worried face. "Thank God."

Dean's eyes fluttered opened with what looked liked great difficultly. The whites of his eyes had turned bloodshot and it appeared that his focus was a bit off. Dean's gaze swept sleepily towards the ground then finally looked up at Sam. Dean let out a deep exhale as Sam's face swam into focus, a whisper of a smile curving at his mouth.

"Sammy..." He breathed out quietly.

Sam nodded and gave Dean's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Dean sucked in a sharp breath and groaned, causing Sam to withdraw his grip quickly.

"Sorry, sorry."

Sam looked at the chain leading up from the bloodied shackles that held Dean's wrists. The chain looped around a hook on the ceiling and attached down to a loop on the wall. The latter proved problematic, but the chain at the ceiling looked easily detachable. Sam looked back at Dean.

"Hey, I'm gonna get you down, ok?"

Dean nodded weakly, resting his head against his arm and closing his eyes again. Sam put his arms around Dean's waist and lifted up. Dean tried to bite back a cry of pain as Sam constricted around his damaged body. Sam winced for his brother and lifted a little more, successfully unhooking the chain from the ceiling. Dean's shackled wrists fell heavily to his sides and his feet connected heavily with the ground again for the first time since...God, he couldn't even remember how long it had been.

Dean's knees buckled underneath him and he started to slump to the ground. Sam hooked his arms under Dean's shoulders, stopping his fall.

"Gotcha, I gotcha."

He eased Dean to a sitting position on the ground and leaned him back to rest against the wall. Dean's aching head rolled off the comfort of Sam's shoulder and back against the wall with a gentle thump. He wheezed out heavy breaths, almost every part of his body screaming out in agony. Sam kneeled next to him and picked up one of Dean's bound wrists. He inspected the cuff, grimacing at the raw, bloodied skin around the bottom of Dean's hands and on his wrists.

"Damnit."

The irons required a key. Sam looked back up at his brother's pain-etched face.

"H-hey, talk to me. You ok?"

Dean inhaled slowly. "M'okay." He opened his scrunched eyes and immediately focused on something over Sam's shoulder. His gaze widened slightly.

"Sam."

The one word depicted a crystal clear warning of danger. Sam froze and looked slowly up at Dean. He discretely reached in his inner jacket pocket for his gun and spun around; on his feet and taking aim in a single, fluid movement. Charlotte hopped towards the fireplace and held a blood stained doll over the blaze of flames.

"Put the gun down or I'll drop it!"

Sam's eyes flicked to the doll, realizing with horror that the blood covering it must have been Dean's. He repositioned his fingers around the handle of the gun, mind working rapidly. If he hit Charlotte just right in her left shoulder, she would spin away from the fire, but that would still hold the risk of her dropping the Voodoo doll.

Charlotte lowered the doll closer to the flames.

"There'll be no saving him. He'll die screaming before you can do anything about it."

A flamed licked the doll, causing the fabric to singe and smoke a little. Dean sucked in a groan, forcing Sam's attention back to him.

"No, no don't!" Sam's eyes darted rapidly between Dean and Charlotte. He put his hands up and let the trigger guard hang loose around his index finger.

"Just take it easy, alright?"

"Put it down!" Charlotte demanded again.

The gun swung gently around Sam's finger and he glared at the woman. "You'll drop it if I do."

Charlotte cocked her head to the side and smirked fiendishly. "I'll _throw _it if you don't."

Sam's jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, his heart racing. He heard Dean say something to him from his place on the floor, barely audible.

"Do it."

Sam turned his head towards Dean, keeping his eyes on Charlotte until the last second. Dean looked up at him, face wary and riddled with pain, but set with confidence. Sam knew instantly that Dean's words were not an encouragement of surrender. Dean nodded slowly up at him and Sam knew they had both had the same course of action in mind. He locked eyes with his brother, making sure Dean was sure about this.

In a split second, Sam flipped the gun back into his grip and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed about the room and Charlotte spun against the force of a bullet hitting her shoulder. She fell to the ground, the doll still in her clutch. Sam ran forward and grabbed Charlotte's wrist just before she could draw back her arm to throw the doll into the midst of the flames. Sam wrenched it from her hand and threw it safely out of reach across the room.

Infuriated, Charlotte kneed Sam violently in the crotch. The hit was enough to cause Sam to recoil and give Charlotte time to gain the advantage. She brought her foot up and planted it firmly into Sam's chest, throwing him back to the floor.

The gun clattered from Sam's grasp as he tried to win back the air-flow temporarily stolen from his lungs. Charlotte had gotten to her feet and walked to stand over him. She pushed her stiletto down hard into the upward facing flesh of Sam's palm. Sam screamed out as he felt the heel crush through tendons and tissue. Charlotte kicked the gun out of Sam's reach and sent it skittering across the floor. She withdrew her heal with one last violent twist and kicked Sam in the side of the head.

Dean's yells of fury and life threatening curses refused to raise themselves to little more than a hoarse cry. He tried to get to his feet, but only fell weakly back to his knees, the chains weighing heavily on his tired and tortured muscles. He tugged angrily at his bonds but had no success in getting free to protect Sam.

Dark stars danced before Sam's vision as he lay back on the ground, hand held to his throbbing head. He felt something warm trickle down his cheek and he rolled onto his stomach. Sam spotted and started towards the gun lying on the ground a good ten feet away.

"Sam!"

Sam looked up at Dean's harsh yell to see his brother's panicked expression. The reason of his brother's cry of warning was quickly revealed to Sam when pain vibrated up his spine. He arched up against the pain that he recognized from his visions, his eyes clamped tightly shut. Sam couldn't even cry out, he just gasped sharply at the five inches of thin steel that was currently embedded in his back.

Charlotte pulled the pin out and smirked at the blood that covered it. Her eyes flicked tauntingly to Dean who could only stare angrily back at her and tug more violently at his chains.

"No!" Dean choked out angrily as cold realization spread throughout him.

Charlotte turned on her heel and walked over to the locked chest again. Sam pushed off the ground with shaky arms, only to fall right back down with a groan. Charlotte had managed to stab exactly where Jake had a few months earlier; the wound had never fully healed. It hurt like hell even if a little too much pressure was applied to it, much less re-punctured. Sam pressed his hand protectively over the scar and fresh wound as he breathed heavy exhales through his nose, attempting to push through the pain.

Sam opened his eyes to see Charlotte standing over him, bloodied pin poised over an undamaged, pale doll.

"No! Leave him alone!"

Dean's level of panic and desperation reached an all time high. He couldn't get free, he had no idea what to do, and he was having trouble fighting back the dizziness that blurred his vision.

Charlotte plunged the pin through the stomach of the Voodoo doll. Sam grunted and curled in against the agony as he attempted to draw in the breath that his lungs begged for. He vaguely heard Dean's strained yells of despair as the blinding pain exploded through his abdomen.

Adrenaline pulsed through Dean as he watched in horror as his little brother writhed in pain before him. He looked wildly around and his eyes fell on the gun Sam had brought with him. It wasn't that far away, why _the hell _hadn't he seen it before? Dean stretched out on his side and reached for the weapon. The shackles pulled at him, leaving his outstretched fingers just a few inches short of the gun.

Charlotte's eyes remained, bright and filled with evil delight, fixed on Sam as she continued to torture him with the doll.

Sam's broken cries tore at Dean and he willed his hand to reach just a little further.

"Come on!" He strained out. The shackle on his reaching arm slipped up his tricep and bit steadily into his flesh. Dean's finger tips grazed the handle of the gun.

Charlotte removed the pin momentarily and shoved it back into place, coaxing another choked cry from Sam as blood dripped from his mouth.

Sweat beaded on Dean's forehead as he fingers crawled just over the handle. _"Almost there..."_ Sam yelled out again causing Dean to growl in frustration as his fingers grasped desperately for the gun.

Charlotte jerked the pin out of the doll and a gun shot rang out. She stared wide-eyed ahead of her. The needle slipped from her hand and landed on the cold concrete with a gentle ting. Blood oozed from a bullet-hole in the center of her forehead and she fell heavily to the ground next to Sam.

Sam sucked in grateful gulps of air as he stared at the now lifeless Charlotte. He watched in mild horror as her body slowly morphed to match the true age that she was. Her dark hair grayed and deep lines etched her face. Her tight, small clothes no longer looked flattering on her and her eyes grew milky with death. Sam spit a mouthful of blood in her direction and eased onto his side, craning his neck back to look at Dean.

His shaking arm was still outstretched with the gun held tightly in his hand. A few strands of smoke snaked out from the heated muzzle of the gun. Dean looked back at Sam, pure relief smoothing his features. He dropped his aim and slumped heavily onto his back.

Sam shook his head and smiled weakly. "Dean, next time you wanna get laid. Try to find a-"

"Yeah, yeah...smartass."

Dean chuckled and immediately wished that he hadn't. His aching body protested at the unwelcome tensing of muscles. Sam pushed himself up with his hands and shakily got to his feet. He gently massaged at his back as walked over to Dean.

"You alright?"

Dean nodded lazily.

"You?"

Sam kneeled heavily next to Dean, cradling a hand to his stomach.

"I'll live."

Dean's eyes widened and he grabbed weakly at Sam's arm, pulling his hand to where he could see better. The hole Charlotte's stiletto had made went clear through Sam's palm. The flesh looked savagely ripped and blood ran freely from it. Dean's eyes shot angrily over to the dead woman lying across the room. She'd hurt Sam. She had kicked him, put a damn hole through his hand, stabbed him and _tortured _him. Dean's lips twitched as angry enough words tried to form themselves. Sam shook his head.

"Hey, save your strength. I'm pretty sure the score's been evened."

Dean looked back at Sam and let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't happen to agree, but there wasn't much he could do about it either way.

Sam eyed the iron around Dean's wrists again. He let out a breath and smiled faintly at Dean.

"Got a paperclip?"

Dean grinned widely, his eyes crinkling into a pleased expression.

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After Charlotte's body was properly disposed of and guaranteed not to torture anyone from the beyond, the two battered Winchesters shuffled back to the Impala; Dean trailing a few steps behind Sam.

"I'll drive." Dean stated flatly.

Sam looked back at him skeptically and moved to the driver's side of the car. "Yeah right."

"Dude, your hand. It's screwed to hell. I should drive."

Sam looked at Dean for a moment and a concealed smile flickered across his face.

"Fine."

He tossed the keys to Dean. They jingled through the air and hit Dean softly in the chest before he could bring his hand up to catch them. Sam chuckled as Dean looked blankly down at the keys, right arm slightly raised in his attempted snatch. Dean growled out a sigh as Sam's point was made clear to him. Sam bent down and retrieved the keys.

"Get in the car."

"It's dark out here." Argued Dean as he walked gingerly over to the passenger's side.

Sam laughed and the car door squeaked as he opened it. "Yeah, sure."

Both remained silent as the Impala made its way back through the dark forest. Dean frequently eyed Sam's bloodied hand as it rested gingerly on the seat, fingers curled carefully over the hole. Dean let out an audible, regretful sigh and looked back out the window. The exhale did not go unnoticed. Sam looked over at the passenger's seat with furrowed eyebrows.

"What? You alright?"

"No, yeah I'm fine." Dean fidgeted in his seat.

"Dean, you can't follow a negative response with a positive one. It doesn't work that way. What's wrong?"

"It's just..." Dean let out another loaded sigh. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked at his brother with amused disbelief.

"You get drugged, kidnapped, tortured and _you're_ sorry?" Sam stared at Dean with almost amused disbelief on his face. Dean didn't look at Sam or smile; he kept his eyes down on the floor of the car.

"You got tortured too, Sam. And it's my fault."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes as he looked back out onto the road.

"It was Charlotte, or Clarissa...whatever, who did it, Dean. Not you."

Dean's silence pulled Sam's attention back over to his brother. Sam knew the look Dean wore on his face, he knew it all too well.

"Just stop it, ok? You can't feel responsible for every bad thing that happens to me. All that guilt's gonna break you, man."

Dean fidgeted and moved his gaze to look out the window. Sam growled out a frustrated sigh. When was Dean going to realize that he couldn't always protect him from everything? What was it going to take to get Dean to break this towering guilt-complex of his? Sam thought it over for awhile and his eyes focused lazily on the beams of the Impala's headlights as they cut through the crushingly dark night. _"Dark..."_

A smile twitched on Sam's lips as an idea came to him and he pressed down the brake pedal. Dean looked around and over at Sam as the car came to a stop right in the middle of the road. Sam cut the engine and turned off the lights. It was now completely black all around them with no lights from distant houses or street lamps in sight.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked quickly.

Sam shifted in his seat to completely face Dean.

"I want you to admit that what happened tonight was not your fault."

Dean looked around wildly. "Come on, Sam. This is dangerous, it's pitch black out here. A car could come and crash right into us."

Sam's eyes remained on Dean. "Yeah, that'd really suck..." His voice remained flat and void of any actual concern of being parked in the middle of the road in the middle of the night. He continued.

"You can't protect me from everything, Dean..."

Dean breathed out a laugh and shook his head in disagreement with Sam's statement.

"...And I'll start the car again as soon as you admit that and stop torturing yourself when I get a little banged up."

It started to become clear what Sam was doing. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Aw come on, Sammy. You're not serious!"

Sam's voice remained calm in its intent to make a point, but his expression held back a grin at Dean's obvious discomfort.

"The sooner you say it, the sooner we can go back to not being invisible to fast, wreckless drivers."

Dean turned around quickly to search the darkness for incoming headlights.

"Sam." His voice held an edge of panic.

"Your call, Dean." Sam pushed on. "Admit, or get hit-"

"Alright!" Dean yelled. "Alright! It wasn't my fault, ok? Will you turn the damn lights on now?"

A satisfied grin dimpled Sam's cheeks as he turned back to the steering-wheel and flicked the lights back on. He turned the key and pressed on the gas. Dean glared at Sam's pleased expression as they drove on down the road. He shook his head, trying to find something sharp to say.

"You're a...!" Dean tried the start of a few words, but ultimately found nothing to finish his insult with.

"Bitch?" Offered Sam.

"Yeah!"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, maybe. But not much will get through that self-deprecating armor of yours."

"But stopping in the middle of the freakin' road in the dead of night, Sam? You could've gotten us killed!"

Sam shrugged. "It worked, that's what matters."

He heard Dean make a breathy sound, but other than that silence ensued. Sam smiled. He had left Dean speechless. Dean Winchester at a loss for words.

"You...That..." Dean tried again after a moment.

Sam's smile grew broader and Dean decided a punch to the arm would suffice for the words he couldn't come up with. Sam burst out laughing.

"Shut up, it's not funny." Dean said, slouching back down into his seat like a pouting 6 year old.

"It's a shame you don't think so." Sam grinned over at Dean.

Dean couldn't help it. Seeing Sam so amused put a smile on his face. He fought it the best he could, but Sam still noticed the upturning of the corners of Dean's mouth. Dean motioned at the front window.

"Would you just shut up and watch the road...Smartass."

_--Fin--_

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_Ok, so the end part may suck. But I had such a bad case of writer's block and I just wanted to get this finale finished for ya'll. _

_So yeah, hit me with all and any opinions. Thanks for reading!!!! Hope you enjoyed:D:D:D:D_

_Reviews are like Sammy, and I'm Dean...Awwwww(: )_

_--Lil--_


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